


take me back to the night we met

by Gruoch



Category: Spider-Gwen (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst With A Bittersweet Ending, Comics Fusion, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Multiverse Shenanigans, Second Chances, a birthday treat for my sweet, but not a love triangle, metaphorical hauntings, references to character deaths, spider-gwen, star-crossed lovers, three-way love story, transcendent love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gruoch/pseuds/Gruoch
Summary: “Awesome Spider-Man costume,” the woman tells Gwen. “Can we get a picture with you? My niece will love it. She’s planning on being Spider-Man for Halloween, too.”Gwen blinks at her behind the lenses of her mask, frowning. “Sorry...did you say Spider-Man?”“Yeah, that’s your costume, right?” the woman’s companion says. He mimes shooting webs. “You know—friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? The web-slinging crime-fighting superhero? Our boy in red and blue?”Gwen blinks again. “Uh, right…Spider-Man.”She lets the couple take a selfie with her, thanking them as they continue on their way. She frowns into the laundromat storefront again.“Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she mutters to her reflection in the window.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Gwen Stacy, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Gwen Stacy, background Michelle Jones/Gwen Stacy
Comments: 44
Kudos: 132





	take me back to the night we met

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blondsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/gifts).



> Happy, happy, happy birthday dear darling Blondsak!!! Here’s some angsty doomed love to celebrate XD

When Gwen opens her eyes, she’s lying flat on her back looking up at the looming spires of Manhattan high-rises stretching into the night sky, and she immediately knows that something has gone very badly wrong.

It’s the Oscorp Tower that sets alarm bells ringing in her head—namely, the fact that it’s  _ not _ the Oscorp Tower anymore. She squints up at it through the lenses of her mask, wondering if she’s taken a blow to the head and is just disoriented, but no—that’s the Tower, sticking up like a middle finger behind the Grand Central Terminal. Only, the luminous sign blazing across the tower’s upper third portion spells out  _ STARK  _ instead of  _ OSCORP. _

Gwen frowns as she hauls herself to her feet, blinking up at the building.

“Okay...that’s interesting,” she murmurs to herself. Her spidey-sense tingles along the back of her neck as she launches a web at the side of a building and she pulls herself up and out over the street. She swings along a couple of blocks, the unease tightening like a coil in the pit of her stomach. 

A bus rolls past her, its side emblazoned with an ad for a movie she’s never heard of starring an actor she’s never seen, adding to her growing sense that something is Very Wrong.

She gets more confirmation of that a moment later, when she spots a laundromat where her favorite Ethopian restaurant should be.

Gwen drops down to the sidewalk below and stands in front of it, peering through the window at the rows of beat up old washing machines and dryers. The linoleum floor is cracked and stained like it’s seen years of foot-traffic.

Gwen takes a few steps backwards, her heart and mind racing a mile a minute as she looks around again. She’s clearly in Manhattan but something is definitely very  _ off _ about it. Even the air smells different.

She mentally retraces her steps. She’d been pursuing a person that she can only describe as something like a Dungeons and Dragons wizard, complete with robes embroidered with funky-looking runes. She’d assumed he was a crook with the flair for the dramatic as she’d chased him across Midtown, until he’d started pulling tricks that definitely bent the laws of physics. The last thing she remembers is pursuing him through a ring of brilliant red-orange light, before waking up flat on her back in this upside-down version of her city. 

“Excuse me?” Gwen calls to a man walking towards her on the sidewalk, his face bent to look at the screen of the phone in his hand. “Have you seen a kinda weird dude in like...a wizard’s get up around here by any chance?”

“No change,” the guy mutters without looking up from his phone, brushing past her.

“Well, that’s the same, at least,” Gwen drolly remarks to herself. 

She spots another couple approaching, a young woman and a man walking a shaggy black dog.

“Excuse me?” she calls to them, relieved when they actually draw to a stop before her. She jerks a thumb towards the laundromat. “Do you guys know what happened to the Ethopian restaurant that was here?”

The man and woman exchange confused looks.

“We’ve lived here ten years and there’s never been an Ethopian restaurant on this street as far as I remember,” the woman says, shrugging. She looks Gwen up and down, smiling. “Awesome Spider-Man costume, though. Can we get a picture with you? My niece will love it. She’s planning on being Spider-Man for Halloween, too.”

Gwen blinks at her behind the lenses of her mask, frowning. “Sorry...did you say Spider- _ Man? _ ”

“Yeah, that’s your costume, right?” the woman’s companion says. He mimes shooting webs. “You know—friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? The web-slinging crime-fighting superhero? Our boy in red and blue?”

Gwen blinks again. “Uh, right... _ Spider-Man _ .”

She lets the couple take a selfie with her, thanking them as they continue on their way. She frowns into the laundromat storefront again.

“Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she mutters to her reflection in the window.

***

As she sails in looping arcs across alt-Manhattan, as she’s decided to call it, Gwen finds herself wishing, as she often does when she finds herself in difficult situations, that she could talk to Peter.

Sweet, brilliant, funny Peter, her secret keeper and best friend, who always knew how to fix her problems, no matter how weird they were. If he were here, she could call him up and say,  _ hey, pal, I think a wizard sent me to an alternate dimension and I need to get home, what’s the plan, man? _ And Peter wouldn’t even bat an eye. He’d start rambling about the singularity and string theory and cosmic inflation, and together they’d come up with a batshit solution that somehow works.

But Peter is long gone.

“Okay, Stacy, don’t panic,” Gwen says to herself, swinging across Park Avenue. “There’s a very simple explanation here...you’re either trapped in a seriously weird dream, or you’ve...I dunno—time-traveled, or got lost in another dimension, or...something. And all you gotta do now is find that wizard and make him take you home, and if he won’t, you punch his teeth out. Easy peasy.”

The plan is simple enough, but it doesn’t do anything to ease the anxious ache in the center of her chest, the fear that maybe there won’t be a way home. She has no idea where the wizard has gone, no idea who he is or how to find him, no idea how any of this works or what  _ actually _ happened.

_ Home, _ Gwen thinks. She lands lightly on the roof of a building, chewing the inside of her cheek with indecision. What she needs is a friendly face, something familiar and steady, a north star to orient herself. The fear flares for a moment that she won’t find what she’s seeking, that it will be the Ethopian-restaurant-turned-laundromat all over again, that she’s all alone here. But she quashes it down. There’s only one way to find out.

“When in doubt, go to MJ,” Peter had always joked whenever he and Gwen had gotten in over their heads. “She knows how to unfuck things.”

Gwen leaps off the building, catching herself on a web, swinging away towards the apartment she shares with MJ.

_ Home. _

***

MJ always leaves the bedroom window unlatched for Gwen on nights when Gwen is out patrolling, but tonight Gwen chooses to ride the elevator up to her floor, just in case. The last thing she wants to do is break into a stranger’s apartment dressed like Spider-Woman. She wonders if this  _ Spider-Man _ would show up to apprehend her, whoever he is, and as curious as she is about him, she’d really rather not cross paths with him when her life is already so complicated. She’s not sure how believable he’d find her excuse if she started talking about wizards and rings of light and inter-dimensional travel. She’s not even sure she believes it herself.

She leans against the elevator wall, tugging her mask off and shaking out her hair. Her heart is racing again and it has nothing to do with the exertion of swinging over here.

Gwen startles a little when the elevator quietly  _ dings _ and the doors slide open. She takes a deep breath before passing through them and walking down the hall. She feels a burst of almost euphoric optimism when she reaches her apartment door—there’s a wreath hanging on it, adorned with cheap fake orange flowers and black plastic spiders. Halloween has always been MJ’s favorite holiday, and every year she decorates every inch of their apartment with kitschy little spooky decor she finds at thrift stores, brushing off Gwen’s playful complaints that maybe she should tone it down a little.

Gwen takes another breath, and then knocks. She takes a step back, waiting, her pulse pounding in her ears, curling her toes inside her slippers.

There’s the sound of the lock being turned, and then the door opens. Gwen looks up, and immediately feels all the blood drain out of her face.

Because it’s not MJ who has answered the door...

...it’s a ghost, an impossibility, a spectral figure that exists only in memory...

“...Peter?” Gwen croaks out.

***

Gwen can feel herself shaking as she stares into a face she hasn’t seen in years, except in her dreams and in the precious pictures and videos she obsessively copies and backups, desperate to preserve.

Peter stares back at her, the same stunned expression mirrored on his face, his eyes as huge and round as full moons. He sways and leans heavily into the doorframe like his legs can’t hold his weight, searching her face, his eyes going glossy and wounded.

“Gwen?” he whispers, his voice breaking on her name, like it’s too fragile to be spoken out loud.

Gwen opens her mouth to answer but her own voice fails her, trapped in the tightness that has seized her by the throat.

“Is that the delivery guy?” a familiar voice calls from behind Peter. A woman appears at his shoulder a moment later, unzipping a wallet she carries. She looks up and her face goes pale, absolutely bloodless, a sharp little exhale escaping her parted lips. The wallet drops from her hand, tumbling forgotten to the floor.

Gwen swallows, managing to find her voice again.

“Hey, MJ,” she says weakly, offering her a tiny smile.

“Oh my god,” Michelle breathes, tears running down her cheeks. She pushes past Peter and grabs Gwen, seizing her in a tight embrace. Gwen hugs her back, feeling Michelle’s body shaking against hers.

“Oh my god,” Michelle says again, her voice muffled and damp against the side of Gwen’s neck. “ _ Gwen _ !”

Gwen squeezes her tighter, looking over her shoulder at Peter, who’s still slumped against the door, his own face wet with tears as he takes gulping, shuddering breaths.

Gwen feels her stomach sink, that coil of unease tightening again.

“What happened here?” she murmurs.

***

She’s dead.

That’s the story she’s gathered at least, in vague fits and starts, from Michelle. Peter seems to have lost the ability to speak, something Gwen never thought would be possible. He sits opposite her on a beat up old armchair, silent and ramrod straight, his hands curling and uncurling into fists on his knees. He looks away whenever Gwen glances at him, like he can’t bear to meet her eyes. It makes her stomach clench.

Gwen blinks down at the cup of tea held between her hands in her lap. She takes a deep breath.

“Well. Here I was, thinking this night couldn’t get any weirder,” she jokes lamely. 

Michelle’s mouth curls into a little smile, her eyes shining, wet mascara smudged in the hollows above her cheekbones. Peter says nothing, looking down at the floor.

Gwen can’t stop staring at him. He looks like her Peter and yet clearly isn’t him. Where her Peter had been all loose, lanky, bony angles, this Peter is lean and wiry, his ESU t-shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders. He has her Peter’s long skinny face but his nose is crooked, like it’s been broken more than once, and he has a dark five-o’clock shadow across his jaw, something her Peter could only dream of growing. It’s like looking at her Peter if he’d had a chance to grow up, if she’d been able to save him, if she hadn’t had to—

Gwen swallows hard and rips her gaze away from him, feeling tears burning hot in her eyes.

Michelle shifts on the sofa next to her, reaching over to take Gwen’s hand in her own. Gwen clasps it gratefully, looking over at her.

Michelle wets her lips. “How did this...how’d you get here?”

Gwen cocks her head, taking a deep breath. “So...long story short…”

She tells them about chasing the wizard and the ring of light, about waking up here in Manhattan but quickly realizing it’s not  _ her _ Manhattan, about her theory that this is an alternate dimension, that finding the wizard is her ticket home.

“Of course, the wizard has vanished without a trace, and I have  _ no _ clue where to start looking for him,” Gwen finishes. “And I know this all sounds completely crazy—”

Peter cuts her off with a little huff of air.

“It’s not crazy...not to us,” he says, finally speaking up. He exchanges wry looks with Michelle. “Wizards, inter-dimensional travel...sounds like another Tuesday around here.”

Gwen looks between the two of them, eyebrows raised. “Okay? No offense, but this dimension sounds really fucked up.”

Peter lets out a humorless laugh, nodding. Then his expression goes serious. His eyes skim over Gwen. 

“Where’d you get that suit?” he asks.

“I made it.”

“Why?”

Gwen clears her throat. “It’s, uh...I think you have a Spider-Man here, right? Well...where I come from, we don’t have a Spider-Man...we have a Spider- _ Woman _ . And you’re looking at her.”

She hears Michelle suck in a sharp breath beside her, but Peter just laughs again, hunching forward over his knees and pressing a hand against his eyes. Then he abruptly stands up and walks out of the living room, disappearing into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

Gwen turns towards Michelle.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs to her, not sure what she’s apologizing for. “I know this is hard…”

Michelle squeezes her hand again, smiling. “It’s okay. Gwen...I—”

The bedroom door opens, interrupting her, and a masked figure in red-and-blue walks into the room. 

Gwen leaps to her feet, her mouth dropping open and her heart pounding like a fist against her sternum. It’s like looking at someone in a funhouse-version of her own suit—the webbing, the wide white lenses of the mask, the spider symbol emblazoned on the chest...

“What the  _ fuck? _ ” she blurts out. “ _ Peter? _ ”

Spider-Man reaches up and tugs his mask off. Peter looks back at her, a grim smile on his face.

“C’mon,” he says, jerking his head towards the window. “I think I know someone who can help you.”

***

Forget the wizard, forget inter-dimensional travel—Gwen is sure she’s dreaming. She’s swinging past skyscrapers through the busy city, side-by-side with Peter— _ Spider-Man _ —who keeps pace with her as easy as breathing. It gives her a thrill and crushes her at the same time, because this is exactly what her Peter had wanted when he’d started down the dangerous path he wouldn’t return from…

“So, where exactly are we going?” Gwen asks, sailing over a lamppost.

“Greenwich Village.”

Gwen peers at Peter through the lenses of her mask. “What’s in Greenwich Village?”

“A wizard. Not  _ your _ wizard, but I’m pretty sure he can get you home all the same.”

“Okay...so wizards are a thing, apparently. Cool, cool.”

“Yup,” Peter agrees, effortlessly leaping across a street while Gwen glides through the air beside him.

They arrive at a brownstone mansion on Bleeker Street. Gwen peers up at the worn facade, skeptical. 

“I’m not sure what I was expecting as far as wizardly abodes go, but this isn’t it,” she says. “I mean...I thought there’d at least be like, some turrets maybe? A gargoyle?”

“It’s disappointing, I know,” Peter says, climbing the steps out front and knocking on the heavy front door.

They wait. Gwen restlessly shifts her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet. She’s sweating under her mask despite the chilly October weather, her suit clinging damply to her skin between her shoulder blades.

She’s nearly given up hope that the wizard is home when the door swings open. A man dressed in sweatpants and a Columbia University t-shirt glowers down at them from the other side.

“It’s late,” he says sourly, in lieu of a greeting.

“Yeah, hey, sorry, Dr. Strange, but we need help of the mystical variety,” Peter replies, jerking a thumb at Gwen. “This is my friend, Gwen, aka Spider-Woman. She’s from another dimension and she needs to get home.”

The man looks down his nose at Gwen, his nostrils flaring.

“Very well,” he says. “Come inside.”

“ _ That’s _ a wizard?” Gwen mutters to Peter as the trail behind the man down a dark hallway. 

“His name is Dr. Strange—of  _ course _ he’s a wizard,” Peter whispers back. 

Gwen makes a dubious little sound. “My wizard was wearing flowing robes, with like, runes and shit. Not sweatpants.”

“It’s eleven P.M. on a Tuesday, cut him some slack. Do you wear your spidey suit when you’re just chillin’ at home eating pizza?”

Gwen shrugs. “I mean...sometimes, yeah.”

“Hey, me too,” Peter says, giving her a high-five. “MJ  _ hates _ it.”

“My MJ hates it, too,” Gwen says with a grin. The smile fades a moment later as they pass into a room and the wizard gestures at them to take a seat on a pair of armchairs. Gwen sits down, feeling anxiety bubble up in her stomach as she thinks of MJ and the possibility that she won’t be able to get home to her.

The wizard sits down opposite them, managing to look haughty despite the sweatpants. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands folded together, peering at Gwen over steepled fingers. Gwen starts to sweat again.

“So...let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” he says.

Gwen takes a breath and launches into her story again. The wizard listens, silent and rapt, motionless save for the slight movement of his eyes back and forth across Gwen’s face.

When Gwen finishes, the wizard sits back in his chair, still scrutinizing her.

“And why should I believe this story?” he asks.

“Because Gwen Stacy was murdered by Norman Osborn three years ago, and tonight she showed up at my door,” Peter says flatly, something cold and hard in his voice. “I trust her, and that should be good enough for you.”

Gwen whips her head towards him, startled. Michelle had told her the Gwen Stacy of this dimension had died, but had kept the circumstances vague. The fact that she’d been  _ murdered _ was news to her.

The wizard glances over at Peter, as well, seeming to mull this over, before standing.

“Very well,” he says briskly. “This is a relatively easy problem to solve. Take off the mask. I’ll need a strand of your hair.”

Gwen’s eyebrows jump up. “Excuse me?”

“A strand of your hair, please, if you wish to return to your appropriate dimension instead of being lost to the void.”

Gwen glances over at Peter for reassurance before she pulls her mask off. The wizard immediately leans forward and plucks a hair from her head.

“Hey!” she says, rubbing the stinging spot on her head and pouting. “I would have gotten that for you. No need to get grabby.”

The wizard ignores her, producing a glass vial seemingly from thin air and carefully inserting Gwen’s hair into it. 

“The solution to your problem is relatively easy, but it will take some time for me to accurately map your interdimensional travel,” the wizard says. “Return in the morning at nine sharp. In the meantime, do not under any circumstances leave the city.”

“What happens if I leave the city?” Gwen asks curiously. 

“Yeah,” Peter pipes up beside her. “Will it cause like, some kinda dimensional rift that will collapse the space-time continuum?”

“Nothing will happen,” the wizard says brusquely. “I simply expect you to be punctual tomorrow morning and don’t want you wandering off.”

“Oh,” Peter and Gwen say together, a little disappointed by how boring the answer is. 

“We’ll be here,” Gwen promises. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t be late,” the wizard says, ushering them through the mansion and out the door.

“Well...that’s that, I guess,” Peter says awkwardly as they walk down the street together. “You’ve got a ticket home now.”

“Yeah,” Gwen says, a little wistfully.

Peter clears his throat. “You wanna maybe get a churro before we go back to my apartment? There’s a place around the corner that does this insanely good maple-crusted one—”

“Graciela’s?”

“Yeah, Graciela’s,” Peter says with a little laugh. 

“Oh, thank god,” Gwen says, smiling. “I was gonna feel so bad for the poor losers in this dimension if you guys didn’t have a Graciela’s.”

“It would be a real tragedy,” Peter agrees. He casually slings an arm around Gwen’s shoulders as they stroll down the sidewalk, and she feels a burst of warmth in her stomach, a bittersweet nostalgia. She wraps her own arm around his waist, leaning into his side, and as badly as she wants to get home she hopes her remaining hours here pass by slowly.

They grab a paper bag full of churros from Graciela’s and then retreat with it to the top of a nearby building, perching right on the edge of the roof with their legs dangling off the side.

“I gotta say...this is kinda incredible,” Gwen says around a mouthful of fried dough. “I’ve been doing this hero thing alone for a really long time, and...I dunno...it’s kinda nice to imagine that like, maybe there’s a spider-person in every universe out there, you know? And the fact that it’s  _ you _ in this one? And I  _ found _ you? It feels like...fate or something.” She laughs, shaking her head. “That’s stupid, I know…”

“It’s not,” Peter insists. “It’s— _ incredible, _ just like you said.” He gestures broadly to her. “How’d it happen?”

“Well...I got bit by a radioactive spider during a field trip to Oscorp Laboratories when I was fourteen,” Gwen explains simply. “Been Spider-Woman ever since. You?”

“Same thing,” Peter says, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “Jesus. I feel a little like I’m losing my mind right now.”

Gwen snorts and digs another churro out of the bag. “Yeah, me too, pal.” She glances over at him. “So...are you and MJ...together?”

“Uh, yeah...we started seeing each other seriously right after college, and she must be a little off her rocker and I must be the luckiest bastard on the planet, ‘cause she’s kept me around, despite all the bullshit I put her through.” Peter turns his head to look at Gwen, his mouth curling into a smile. 

Gwen returns it with a huff of laughter. “I have an MJ, too. She must be a little crazy, as well. I dunno what I’d do without her.”

“Me neither,” Peter says, his smile briefly widening. He looks down at his hands, rubbing them together.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry me,” he blurts out suddenly. He lifts his head to look at Gwen, his face alight with a kind of nervous joy. “I haven’t told anybody that, but I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I’m just waiting till I can save up to buy a ring, and then...I’m gonna ask her.”

“Peter…” Gwen says, a smile stretching across her face. “That’s... _ amazing _ . I’m so happy for you both.”

“Yeah?” Peter asks, wringing his hands together again, his eyes shining.

“Yes, absolutely,” Gwen says, leaning over to hug him. She sits back. “You really are lucky, you know that?”

Peter lets out a little laugh, nodding. “Yeah, I know. And thank you. It means a lot to me, that you think this is a good thing,” he says, smiling at her. 

The smile slips away a moment later, his expression turning somber. He looks down at his hands dangling between his knees, his head bowed. “Gwen...I wanna tell you something...about you and me. About...what happened to us. To my Gwen…that thing I said back there, about—about Norman Osborn...that’s not the whole story…”

Gwen straightens up, her heart beating a little harder. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Instead of saying anything, though, Peter pulls his mask back on and drops off the side of the building. Gwen follows him, falling lightly through the air. They catch themselves on twin silken lines, bending in parallel arcs. It feels like dancing, Gwen thinks, with the best partner you could ever hope to be matched with, but there’s something somber and aching about their journey together now. Peter has gone silent once more, brooding, and Gwen keeps quiet, as well, waiting for him to open up again.

They glide down to the docks by the river, and Peter comes to a stop there, standing still as stone, the red of his suit muddied and muted in the dimness here, the blue a dark void. He’s looking away down the river as if transfixed. In the distance, the Brooklyn Bridge looms over the water, stringed with beads of light.

“That’s where it happened,” Peter murmurs suddenly, his voice as dry as the fallen leaves skittering around their feet, carried by the wind.

“We were engaged. I’d just given her a ring,” he continues quietly. He’s talking about  _ her, _ Gwen realizes. His Gwen. “She was... _ so _ excited, making all these plans…” He lets out a small, teary laugh. “I was just trying to figure out how I was gonna pay for it all. I woulda married her barefoot and shirtless in a dumpster, but...she deserved a special day, and I was gonna give it to her, even if I had to sell a kidney on the dark web or something.”

Gwen reaches over, grasping his hand in hers, tears burning hot in her eyes.

“Didn’t matter though,” Peter says thickly. “We never made it to the wedding. She died right there—at that bridge. It was my fault. Because of who I am, because of Spider-Man, because...I tried to save her when she fell, and I killed her instead. Broke her neck.”

“Peter…” Gwen says softly, her vision blurred. She tugs off her mask, looking up at him bare-faced as she squeezes his hand.

Peter reaches up and pulls his own mask off. Tears glitter on his cheeks, shining in the oily yellow security lights shining down from a nearby warehouse. He turns to look at her, his face full of raw grief.

“You could stay,” he says, pleadingly. “You could...we could all be together again. It’s like you said—we found each other. That doesn’t just happen. Don’t you see? There’s something tying us together, Gwen. Maybe...this is our second chance.”

“Peter…” Gwen says again, her heart aching. “I can’t do that…I’m sorry...”

Peter lets out a shaky breath, his chin dropping against his chest, before he looks at her again, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.

“When I opened the door, you knew me...there’s a Peter where you’re from, right?” he says.

Gwen wets her lips, her chest tight. 

“Yes,” she whispers.

Peter looks down again for a moment, his lips trembling as he swallows hard. He lifts his head, his eyes shining with a wounded, fragile hope. 

“Is he...are we together there?” he asks, his voice breaking.

Gwen can’t answer, silenced by grief. She reaches up and cups his face in her hands instead, gently wiping away his tears with her thumbs.

In the distance, a siren starts up a long, mournful wailing. Peter takes a shuddering breath, turning his head in Gwen’s hands in its direction. Gwen reluctantly releases him, stepping back as they both put their masks back on.

Face hidden behind the mask once more, Peter takes another breath, and it’s like a switch flipping, the vulnerability gone, his manner all business. He turns to look at her, the large white eyes of his mask narrowing.

“What do you think, Gwendy? You wanna kick some ass together?” he asks.

Gwen laughs, smiling at him behind her own mask. She cracks her knuckles. “Hell yeah, I do.”

She takes Peter’s hand in hers again, and together the swing out into the night.

***

Gwen can’t sleep when they finally return to Peter and MJ’s apartment in the early hours of the morning. She lies awake on the couch, staring up at the cracked, water-stained ceiling overhead, dressed in a pair of MJ’s sweatpants and her t-shirt. She can’t stop thinking about what Peter had told her by the river. Every time she closes her eyes, she can see the bridge with its strands of light twinkling in the darkness behind her eyelids, like someone else’s memory. Had she...had that Gwen been scared, she wonders? Had she known those were her final moments, that she’d never get to marry the man who loved her?

She’s startled from these thoughts by the hushed whisper of the bedroom door sliding open across the carpet. Michelle comes out into the hallway, tying the sash of a robe around her waist. She walks to the living room and then stops short when she sees Gwen lying awake.

“Sorry,” Michelle murmurs. “I was just getting a glass of water.”

“It’s okay,” Gwen says, sitting up. “I wasn’t actually asleep.”

Michelle comes over, sitting down on the couch beside her, her hands clasped together in her lap.

“Peter told you what happened,” she says. “About our Gwen…”

Gwen swallows. “Yes. I’m so sorry.”

Michelle nods, opening and closing her hands. 

“Me and Peter...we wouldn’t have found each other without Gwen. She was the one who made me brave enough to love him,” she says quietly. “She was his first love, but she was mine, too. Before Peter, before me, there was Gwen. And maybe...there’s a part of me that would give it all up to have her back, too.”

Gwen feels that ache in her chest again, her vision going blurry with tears. “MJ...”

Michelle lifts her head, looking at her. “But you’re not her, are you?” 

Gwen shakes her head. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry.”

Michelle nods, her throat working. She offers Gwen a tiny smile.

“The MJ where you’re from...what’s she like?” she asks, with almost childlike curiosity.

Gwen smiles back at her. “Well...she looks like you, except she cuts her hair short and she dyes it fire engine red.”

Michelle lets out a soft laugh. “Seriously? Huh...I sometimes think about going red. Does it look good?”

“It looks great, but she could shave her head bald and rock it,” Gwen says, her smile turning wry and affectionate. “She’s just that kinda person. Not just gorgeous, but confident. She knows who she is. I really love that about her. Whenever things get crazy, I know she’s gonna be steady as a rock.”

Michelle’s own expression goes soft. “I’m really glad you have an MJ.”

“Me too,” Gwen agrees. “And I’m glad Peter has you. Makes me feel like...he’s gonna be okay.”

MJ smiles again, her eyes glossy. “I’m really glad you found us again, even if it was only for a little while. I miss you, Gwen. I love you. Everyday I still love you.”

“I love you, too, Em,” Gwen says earnestly. “I love you more than anyone in the whole world.”

“Can I hold you for a little while?” Michelle asks quietly, her voice full of an aching longing.

Gwen nods, shifting closer to her. She puts her arms around Michelle’s neck and lays her head against Michelle’s chest, closing her eyes and listening to the familiar beat of Michelle’s heart.

Michelle wraps her up in her arms, resting her cheek against Gwen’s hair, and Gwen can feel her warm tears soaking the crown of her head.

***

“This will only take a moment,” Strange says, making intricate glowing patterns in the air with his hands. He’s dressed in jeans and a New York Giants hoodie today, which does a lot to dampen the aura of mysticism in the room.

Gwen is back at the wizard’s mansion with Peter, waiting to go home. She clasps Peter’s hand in her own, her stomach twisting in knots. She’s wearing a sweater and jeans MJ’s given her, her Spidey suit tucked deep down inside the tote bag sitting at her feet. The clothes smell like MJ—Gwen takes deep breaths, inhaling the comforting scent and trying to calm her racing heart.

She’d asked MJ to come with them earlier that morning to see her off, but MJ had declined.

“I don’t like goodbyes. I won’t even take people to the airport unless I have to,” she had said, smiling at Gwen, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Goodbye sounds so... _ final _ . I’d rather just say, see you later, and hope that—someday, somewhere, in another universe maybe—we’ll be together again.”

Gwen had nodded, smiling back at her through her own tears. “Take care of Peter for me, okay?”

“I will,” Michelle had promised.

Gwen had kissed her cheek and hugged her one last time. “See you later, MJ.”

And she would see MJ again, if this all goes to plan. The wizard makes one last flourish with his hands, and a spinning ring of light appears in the room.

Gwen sucks in a startled breath. She can see the familiar skyline of Manhattan— _ her _ Manhattan—encircled in the blazing ring, and she feels a rush of bittersweet relief.

“Is that it?” she asks, just to be sure. 

The wizard turns to face them. “That’s it. The portal will remain open until you pass through.”

Peter clears his throat. “Thanks, Doc. Do you mind...can we have a moment alone?”

The wizard inclines his head, then leaves them alone together.

Peter turns towards Gwen, squeezing her hand.

“You could still change your mind,” he says softly. He offers her a little smile. “We could be partners in crime-fighting. You gotta admit we had a great time last night. We make a good team. We always have.”

Gwen huffs out a little laugh, nodding. “I did have fun. You’re a great Spider-Man.”

“And you’re a great Spider-Woman,” Peter replies, his eyes soft with affection. His expression turns serious. He cups her face in his hands, tilting her head up.

“I mean it—you could stay,” he says. “Make a home here with us. With me and MJ.”

“I’m not your Gwen, Peter,” Gwen says gently, pulling his hands away from her face and holding them in her own. “I can’t be your Gwen.”

She looks down for a moment, fighting back tears and the ache in her chest, before she lifts her head and makes herself look him in the eye.

“You asked me if we’re together in my universe,” Gwen says quietly. “I didn’t tell you what happened to him...to my Peter. He was my best friend. I loved him, and he loved me. We did everything together. But then I got these powers, and...I think he felt like I was leaving him behind. He just wanted to be like me. He tried to become like me. But he became something else instead...something dangerous…”

She stops a moment, her vision blurred with tears, swallowing hard. “I tried to save him, like you tried to save your Gwen. I tried to bring him back, but...I failed. He’s dead, Peter. I lost him, like you lost your Gwen.”

Peter is silent for a long moment, but Gwen can see the devastation on his face. He looks away from her, struggling to compose himself. He takes a shaky breath, turning back to her, his eyes pleading.

“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. “But, Gwen...we have a chance to  _ fix _ it—we can do it  _ right  _ this time.”

Gwen squeezes his hands, offering him a small, sad smile. 

“Maybe there’s a universe out there where you and me get our happy ending together,” she says. “But it’s not this one. I don’t think you and me get a second chance, Peter. Maybe...we just get a chance to say goodbye this time.”

“MJ’s at home waiting for you,” she continues. “And if she’s anything like my MJ, she’s always gonna be there waiting for you. And that’s why I have to go home. My MJ’s waiting for me, too.” 

Peter smiles at her through his tears. “You better go home, then. She worries. Don’t make her wait.”

Gwen returns his smile, and then she works a ring off her finger and hands it to him. “Here—you said you were saving up for a ring. MJ gave me that. It was hers first, so I know it will fit. It’s her birthstone. I can always get another, but...I want you to give that one to your MJ. Don’t make her wait, either, okay?”

“I won’t,” Peter promises, his eyes shining. He reaches out, tucking her hair behind her ear and then cupping her cheek.

“I love you, Gwendy,” he says softly. “I’ll always love you.”

Gwen presses her hand against his, her throat painfully tight. “I love you, too, Peter.”

She reaches up to embrace him, standing on her toes to wrap her arms tight around his neck. He hugs her back, pressing his face into the side of her neck, his breath coming in deep, shuddering gulps. Gwen closes her eyes, trying to memorize the rhythm of his heartbeat and the way he feels in her arms, strong and alive again. 

Then she reluctantly releases him, briefly pressing her hand to his cheek before stepping towards the ring of light.

She stands there on the threshold for a moment, taking a deep breath, before turning back around. She lifts a hand to wave.

“See you later, Pete,” Gwen calls to him.

“See you, Gwen,” Peter calls back, smiling, his face streaked with tears, Gwen’s ring clutched tight in his fist.

Gwen turns back around, peering through the blazing ring at the city— _ her _ city—stretching out before her. MJ is there somewhere, she knows, waiting for her.

_ Home _ .

She takes another breath, and steps through.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can also find me on tumblr as [groo-ock](https://groo-ock.tumblr.com)


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